"What in the Empress's name happened?" I exhaled, still reeling from the chaotic escape.
"Urgh..." Nicole groaned as she limped to the couch and collapsed onto it with a relieved sigh. "We went up the ass of a pepper. Never saw 'em, they never saw us—until we were face-to-face and could smell 'em." Her accent thickened, slurring her words into something barely intelligible.
"...What?"
Jason rubbed his temple as he emerged from the cockpit, his bicep slick with blood. "We fell into a trap from the reverse," he muttered, lowering himself onto the couch beside Nicole. His movements were careful, controlled, but the tension in his jaw betrayed the pain. "Get a med-kit for us both. Nicole's holo-vest stopped a few bullets, but she's got laser burns on her back."
"Sure thing." I hurried to the cargo hold, grabbing one of our remaining five med-kits before returning to the table. As I opened it, I glanced between them. "Explain that further. H-how do you trigger a trap backwards?"
"You become the ambushers," Nicole clarified, her voice returning to normal. "Don't know how I missed them on my drone's scanners, but the only reason we found them was because I drove straight through the mushroom trees they were hiding in. After that, well—you know the rest."
Jason grunted as I worked to disinfect and bandage his wound. His bicep was a mess, but the bullet had passed through cleanly. The real problem would be muscle damage if we didn't get him proper treatment soon.
Once his arm was wrapped, I moved to Nicole. Twisting her bracelet, I powered down her holo-vest, watching as the shimmering light around her faded. Gently, I guided her onto her stomach and peeled back her jacket and shirt. Beneath, her back was lined with blackened burns—and beneath those, layers of faded scars.
I swallowed.
Nicole had been through hell.
I reached for the ointment, smoothing it carefully over the burns, but my mind lingered on the scars. I wanted to ask where they came from, but the way she turned her head, avoiding my gaze, made it clear—she wouldn't answer.
And, really, I already knew.
War. Duty. The same price we all paid. I had my own scars to prove it.
"...Is that so?" I murmured as I applied the medical pads. Once secured, I pulled her shirt back down. "Well... you both made it back in one piece. That, on top of executing the target, makes this a mission success. Wouldn't you say so, Andy?"
[Affirmative.]
Andromeda's voice resonated from atop the table, his card-form pulsing faintly. [Analysis indicates that our squad has earned a reputation significant enough for such a heavy force to be dispatched in pursuit. During my defence, the following units were engaged: 100 hunter automatons, 6 APCs, 8 BTRs, 4 digger tanks, 2 striders, and 1 turtle walker. 93% of hostile forces were destroyed before extraction.]
Jason let out a breath, both impressed and exhausted. "That's the strength of a small army." He shook his head, exhaling through his nose. "While I appreciate the compliment, I also appreciate the fact that a bullet went through my arm. Bone's fine, but I'll need proper treatment before permanent muscle damage sets in."
A scanning light emitted from Andromeda's wings, sweeping over Jason's bandaged arm. [Correct, Sergeant Jason. I advise overseeing the final target's elimination alongside Major Nicole while Pilot Firefly executes the objective.]
"That depends on where the last commander is hiding," Jason said, eyes flicking toward the robotic beetle. "We'll be shifting sectors. Heading deeper into Freiheit territory than I'm comfortable with."
"He's got a point," Nicole admitted grimly. "Taking out their spy commanders has helped push them back, but if we can't predict what's beyond the warp tunnels, we could end up flying blind straight into the middle of a war."
I crossed my arms. "We were alone when we started. I don't see the difference between now and then."
Jason levelled me with a hard stare. "The difference is that we won't have any fallback."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Sector Three is the backline. Freiheit's recon squads use it to scout paths behind enemy forces—trying to carve a way into Nymphas's central systems. If things go sideways there, we can still retreat. But Sector Four and beyond?" He shook his head. "That's no-man's space. The Empire has no control, no influence. It's a pure war zone. If we run into trouble, no one is coming to help."
I pressed my lips together. I understood their hesitation.
Until now, we'd had the luxury of retreat. Even if the enemy gave chase, they never had the satellite coverage to track us, nor the manpower to spare after our repeated supply sabotage.
But the moment we crossed beyond the warp tunnels?
Everything changed.
There would be no retreat. No second chances. If we got caught, we were dead.
[If we can establish communications with allied forces beyond the warp tunnels, the risk would be heavily mitigated,] Andromeda suggested, drawing our attention. [If allies know we are coming, they can direct us to a tunnel under Nymphas control and provide escort. While secrecy has been advantageous, it is reasonable to assume the final target already knows we are coming.]
"Easier said than done," Nicole cut in. "I don't know anyone in the Noblesse Oblige legions, the Knight battalions, or even the Nymphas field armies. And we'd have to be in the tunnels before even attempting contact. If pass-keys have changed, they'll assume we're mimics or face-stealers. You know anyone, Jason?"
Jason scoffed, his voice edged with bitterness. "None who'd prefer to see me alive."
Nicole grimaced, well aware of what he meant.
She turned to me. "You, Firefly?"
I thought for a moment. A few names surfaced.
"The general of the Harmonic Pack Battalion knows me. Captain Guvec from the Saint of Paradigm warship, too. Some of the pilots from Fallen Moon Facility might help us." I paused, an idea forming. "Otherwise..."
I met their eyes. "I'm just an ordinary Constellation Knight pilot."
Nicole blinked. "That you are—" Then her eyes widened. "That's right! You're the pilot of a fraggin' Constellation Knight!"
She almost jumped off the couch in excitement—only to immediately regret it, groaning as she clutched her back.
"Anyone in the Nymphas military would be glad to hear that Andy is even breathing near them," she grinned.
"Except for Freiheit," Jason added dryly.
[I am incapable of breathing, Corporal. I lack a respiratory system,] Andromeda informed dryly.
Nicole snorted. "Good point." Then, nodding, she added, "But if Andy can broadcast his Constellation Knight ID signal, it'd keep friendlies from firing at us once we pass through the warp tunnel. Problem is... Freiheit'll pick up on it too, sooner or later. And I doubt they'd be thrilled about another CK joining the fight against them."
"It won't be instant," Jason reasoned, standing from the couch with slow, measured movements. His injured arm still stiffened with pain, but he powered through it. "Our forces will have time to prepare if Freiheit comes knocking—but we'll be long gone by then." He made his way toward the cockpit. "I'll set course for Sector Three's Delta warp tunnel. Closest route to our final target. We're running on fumes—if we fly straight into a war, we might need an emergency boarding on a friendly warship just to restock."
[A course has already been plotted, Sergeant Jason,] Andromeda announced. [We will arrive at the warp tunnel entrance from slip-space in T-minus 23 minutes and 5 seconds.]
Jason stopped mid-step, his expression darkening. "Good work," he admitted begrudgingly. "But I've told you not to link with the ship's autopilot, Andromeda."
[Apologies, Sergeant,] Andromeda replied, unbothered. [I acted in accordance with the discussion's consensus and was unable to inform you before you moved. It was probable that Pilot Firefly did not want you putting any strain on your right bicep wound.]
My face went hot. Nicole, of course, found that hilarious, smirking as she leaned back against the couch. Jason, on the other hand, just sighed.
Shifting gears, he asked, "...Does Andromeda have space-flight capability?"
"Y-yeah," I answered quickly. "But he'd need a few seconds to reconfigure himself once engaged."
"Good. Go tie down whatever supplies we have left near the cargo hold's connecting door," Jason ordered. "If we run into opposition, you'll launch from the ramp in your Knight for a quick response. Hopefully, that won't be necessary."
"Let's hope."
Grabbing Andromeda from the table, I made my way to the cargo hold. The black storage crates had dwindled. When this mission started, we had forty boxes lining the walls. Now? Only nine. Four of them held medical supplies—two less than what we started with. Five were ammunition, split between Andromeda's reserves and the ship's weapons. The last? A single, untouched box of military rations. Enough food for maybe two more days.
I clicked my tongue in frustration. "How are you on CIF3 canisters and rockets, Andy?"
[All fully stocked, Pilot,] the beetle-form AI confirmed from my belt. [Only brute force and commandeered enemy weaponry were used in covering Major Nicole Naben and Sergeant Jason Everes. My current ammunition reserves remain at 100%.]
"Huh. That's something, at least."
Securing the last of the crates against the wall, I yanked down the cargo straps from the ceiling and clipped them into the deck plating. The belts pulled taut, keeping everything in place while still leaving enough room for Andromeda to enlarge if needed.
As I finished, a warm scent drifted through the air. Moving back into the common area, I found Jason pouring hot water into MRE packets while Nicole idly stirred hers with a wooden fork.
"Hey," she called, nodding me over. "Eat while you can."
I sat down, and Jason handed me a meal. "How's our supply situation?" he asked, barely pausing between bites.
Stirring the contents with my fork, I answered, "We've got plenty of medical. Enough ammo for maybe three more full rearms for Andromeda. Food-wise? Only one box of unopened MREs and whatever water's left."
I took a bite. Hard bacon, rehydrated pasta, and a medley of mystery vegetables slid across my tongue, bland but edible. Not the worst thing I'd ever eaten—pilot training gruel still held that title—but definitely not good.
Jason hummed, rubbing his chin in thought. "Rations could last two weeks if we stretch them. Fuel-wise, we might have just enough to reach an orbital station in Sector Two once the final target's dealt with. Ship's reactor was filled with our last reserves at the previous stop."
"Maybe we can ask for supplies when we pass through," Nicole suggested, gnawing on her fork for what was likely better flavour than the meal itself.
Jason's expression darkened. "If not—and they're petty about it—we'll steal some."
A heavy pause settled over the table.
I chewed my food slowly, mulling it over. Would we really have to steal fuel from our own allies? Given the Rogue Raven Battalion's reputation—and the way Jason said it so casually—I wouldn't be surprised if it came to that.
[ETA: one minute until warp tunnel arrival, fireteam. Assume combat positions,] Andromeda's voice announced from my belt.
The tension in the room sharpened instantly. Nicole swallowed the last of her meal, tossing the empty packet aside. Jason wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and moved toward the pilot's chair.
And me? I took one last bite, forced it down, and stood.
This next jump could take us straight into hell itself.
"Urgh... I need to pee. One sec." Nicole bolted for a nearly hidden door in the wall, vanishing behind it.
Jason, finishing his meal, gathered our trash and tossed it into the bin. "Head to the cargo hold. You know the plan. Nicole'll take up the ship's weapon systems as usual while I pilot once she's... Yep." Without another word, he slipped into the cockpit, likely escaping what was to come.
I, on the other hand, hurriedly made my way to the cargo hold—muffling Nicole's groans through the thin metal walls as I passed by. Her stomach never agreed with MREs. The real victims were the ones who had to endure the aftermath. Not something I thought I'd be dealing with for two months straight before starting this mission.
[The spaceship is entering the warp tunnel now, Pilot,] Andromeda informed.
Gripping a wall handle just in time, I braced myself as the ship rattled under the gravitational turbulence of the tunnel.
Reaching down, I grabbed my pilot helmet from my waist and slid it over my head. It sealed automatically, locking into the collar of my combat overalls. A hiss of air filled the helmet as my suit pressurized—preparing me for the cold emptiness of space.
Pressing my hand over my radio, I sent a message to the cockpit. "Emitting signal beacon now, Jason."
"Roger." Detaching Andromeda from my belt, I watched as he expanded into his full size, unfolding in the cargo hold like a metallic beast. His massive frame forced him to crouch low, careful not to scrape his shoulders against the ceiling.
[Signal emitter is active. No issues detected. Any allies at the warp tunnel's exit should be receiving our ID now,] he confirmed.
"Or enemies, for that matter," Nicole muttered over comms. "Guns, flares, and rockets are ready."
"Hang on," Jason cut in. "I'm getting interference. Looks like a transmission... I can't make out what they're saying. Anything you can do, Andromeda? I'll patch you through now."
Climbing into Andromeda's open chest, I buckled into my seat as the cockpit sealed around me. The tubes within stretching out and inserting into my arms and nape while the transmission Jason had intercepted played through my comms, but it was scrambled—choppy, broken.
"—attention— —ot—! Repeat! Do—!"
A harsh buzzing sound followed as Andromeda processed the data. [I am unable to clean up the message, Sergeant. There is too much interference from the warp tunnel. However, its signature is friendly.]
"Yeah, I noticed that too. Voice sounds panicked, though." Jason worked quickly, adjusting the ship's communications. "Attention, Nymphas military. This is Fireteam Thermite of Rogue Raven Battalion, carrying CK-14, codename Andromeda. Team-ID: Mike Lambda Delta. Your signal isn't clear, over. Please repeat."
For several tense seconds, static dominated the channel. Then—a high-pitched screech tore through my eardrums. "—repeat! Unknown CK signal! Do not exit the warp tunnel! Do not exit! You'll be exposed to heavy fire! I repeat, do not exit!"
Alarms blared in my mind.
But before we could react, a violent force lurched the ship forward—flinging us out of the warp tunnel and straight into hell itself.
"Fuck! It's a fleet of Freiheit warships?!" Nicole's voice cracked over comms.
"Enacting evasive!" Jason dived the ship, twisting between gunfire and explosions as the cargo hold flashed red. "Be ready for ejection, Firefly! Keep them off us until we reach allied cruisers!"
"Copy that! Ready to disembark!"
"Go!"
The ramp slammed open—air rushed past the mech as Andromeda was pulled into the vacuum of space.
The war erupted around us. Three massive Freiheit warships bore down on a single Nymphas cruiser—its hull battered, shields flickering. Wreckage from a second allied vessel floated in the void, its remains scattered like a shattered skeleton. Smoke and twisted metal *choked* the darkness.
Then—movement. Enemy drone-jets—dozens—burned through the void, their thrusters glowing like distant embers. The instant Andromeda emerged, they swarmed, locking onto our position. The nearest enemy cruiser's massive cannons swivelled in our direction, their barrels charging.
Yet—Despite the chaos. Despite the war raging beyond my cockpit screens. It was silent. Almost deathly. The white noise of the blood pump and screens whirring around me all that filled the near perfect quietness.
Andromeda's voice cut through the quiet. [Let's go to work, Pilot.]